solutions in the aisle over
by Flashing The Floods
Summary: Marcese rolls onto her side and tries not to feel anything when Debrah touches her bare shoulder. OC/Debrah femslash. Warning for drugs and bad ideas. Snow flavored crap.


**Author's Note: And instead of finishing what I have to do, yet again, something else arises. Nevertheless everything is finished eventually so I suppose it's alright. Wangsty crap. References recreational drug use.**

* * *

"There she is," Debrah greets in the doorway of her hotel room.

Marcese's hand is still raised to knock. She smiles weakly and lowers it. "Hi."

"Don't be a stranger." Debrah grabs her by wrist and pulls her over the threshold, brightly painted blue lips quirking in a smirk.

She's very blue today. Blue lips, blue streaks in her hair, blue nails, blue eye shadow. Blue vest over a tight white mini dress and blue nylons to match.

"You look really nice for somebody who's on vacation," Marcese comments.

"All for you," Debrah singsongs.

Marcese snorts at that and plops down on the plush hotel bed. She's somewhat dolled up herself. Always for Debrah, genuinely for Debrah. Black skinny jeans and a _Stars of Nightmares_ crop top that emphasizes the minute cleavage she does have. Mismatched gloves, one checked and one fishnet, complete her outfit well enough and that's an accessorizing style she unmistakably adopted from Debrah herself.

Debrah twirls around and sits on Marcese's legs, exhaling softly through her nose and just grinning. Marcese reaches up to curl her fingers in her hair.

"Miss me?"

"Of course."

"I counted on it." Debrah cups her cheek and rubs her thumb over Marcese's unpainted lips. She leans down and kisses her softly, sharing some of her blue.

Marcese relaxes with her taste and kisses her back. Debrah returns the favor with tongue this time and Marcese sucks it up like oxygen, the kiss only breaking when she needs the real thing. Debrah shifts over her, holding her wrists to the bed and poising above. Her lipstick is smeared all over her mouth now. Some is smudged on her teeth too and she doesn't look any less like a star.

"Tell me something," Debrah says.

"Yeah?" Marcese raises a brow.

"What's with you and your insatiable lust for people who treat you like shit?" Debrah continues in the warmest cinnamon and honey voice. "Me, Amber, Dake, Li. This is a pattern with you."

Marcese flinches. "Well...You're the best at it."

"Oh, I'm aware." Debrah hums a gentle note and lightly kisses her again. "But that's not an answer."

She slides off Marcese and sits next to her instead. Marcese rolls onto her side and tries not to feel anything when Debrah touches her bare shoulder.

"Why do you care anyway?" She sighs. "I thought we were going to fuck."

"At some point," promises Debrah. "We've got all day. I'm curious."

"I already told you why I liked you," Marcese peers at her out of the corner of her eye. "The appeal goes hand in hand with that. You're honest with me and it makes me feel special."

"I recall," Debrah hums.

"I don't like being lied to. I'm scared of charades and fake bliss." Marcese frowns, shaking her head a bit. "I can't tell if people are lying when they're being kind. If they're putting on a show like you did, friendly and sweet just to get what they want. At least when I'm being treated like garbage I know there's no false pretense. I'm seeing someone for who they really are."

"Whoa," scoffs Debrah, her brows pinching together. "That's how you look at it?"

"Hey," Marcese says. "You asked."

"That's pretty messed up," Debrah declares.

"You shouldn't complain considering that's why I'm yours whenever you feel like it," Marcese murmurs pointedly.

Debrah's fingers roam down to her bellybutton ring. She playfully tugs the stone and sure enough, her critique is dropped. "Is this sapphire?"

"Mhm."

"I want to get my lip pierced but my manager says it's not a good idea." Debrah touches the skin above her navel now, her fingertips stroking an idle circle. "Think I'd look good with spider bites?"

Marcese rolls onto her back to study Debrah's face as if she doesn't know the entire plane by heart, by touch. She reaches up and traces her lips, more blue lipstick smearing and sticking tacky to the pad of her index finger.

"Rings," she tells her. "Not studs."

"Good," Debrah agrees. "I was planning on rings."

"Take your vest off," Marcese says as she sits up.

Debrah teasingly shoves her back down. "You didn't say the magic word."

"Please." Marcese pouts.

Debrah shrugs the vest down and Marcese sits to pull it off entirely, pressing close. Debrah's breasts softly squish to hers as she spreads her fingers along her collarbone and this is when she notices something.

"You lose weight?"

"Attractive, Marce." Debrah rolls her eyes.

"Sorry, you just seem skinnier. I didn't think you were trying."

"I wasn't." Debrah's hand nonchalantly crawls up Marcese's top. "Might be the coke."

Marcese stiffens. "What?"

"What?" Debrah mimics, breathing a laugh as she gives the other girl's nipple a reprimanding squeeze. "Yeah. It's part of the rock star life, right?"

Marcese winces. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Can be." Debrah tips her head. "You wanna try some?"

"No..." She looks down.

"I think you do." Debrah's hand slips out from under her top. Marcese shudders slightly at its loss.

"I can't," she insists. "My aunt will know. Should I be worried about you?"

Debrah balks at that for a moment and then erupts into nervous, trilling laughter. "No! Just no, you and I aren't like that. I'm fine anyway but yeah. You do your thing and I do mine. When we meet up we meet up. That's how this works."

"I know." Marcese slumps, chewing at the inside of her cheek. She still wishes it wasn't like that. She still wishes she mattered enough to go on the road with Debrah at least, even if the status of girlfriend might be high enough out of reach to knock her too her knees.

"Don't make that sad face," Debrah coos, leaning into her space and unzipping Marcese's jeans. "Come on, let's just have fun. Are you sure you don't wanna try the coke? It makes touching just like, fantastic."

"Touching you is already fantastic." Marcese swallows her worry under the temptation and puts Debrah's hand in her pants.

"You need to stop talking." Debrah cringes. "If you get any cheesier than that, I'll be lactose intolerant."

ღ

Debrah dozes off during the post-sex movie and Marcese untangles herself from the snoring singer and softly crosses the carpet. She's still a little unsettled by the whole coke thing. Maybe she's overreacting. It isn't her problem anyway, really. Like Debrah said, they each do their own thing. But still...

Marcese quietly paces from one side of the room to the other, nervously rubbing at the fresh bite marks that stretch along her clavicle.

Where is it?

It's gotta be in the room, right?

Debrah was talking about it like it was in the room. Marcese casts a glance back to the other girl, still snoring softly on the pillow, blanket only pulled up to her lower back. The bluish diffuse from the movie seems to illuminate her skin.

It's a good sized room. Marcese crawls around through the kitchen as quietly as possible, checks the fridge and the cabinets. Nothing. She tries the closet. Debrah's unpacked luggage. Possibly, she's snoop around a little more before she digs through that though. She has to be quiet, after all, and she can't fit in the closet. She'd have to pull that boulder of a bag out.

So she creeps back to the kitchen. Debrah's brand name purse rests on the counter.

She wouldn't be stupid enough to keep it there, would she?

Marcese considers and opens it up for shits and giggles, not expecting to find the palm-sized package that she does. Marcese internally groans.

Really? Right in her purse?

That's idiotic. For as quick-witted and skilled at manipulation as she was, Debrah could be really reckless sometimes. No, in fact, maybe that was why. Maybe her own cleverness and authentic lies worked too well for her. She was too good at being herself, it made her cocky.

Marcese takes the package and ducks into the bathroom. Debrah is going to kill her for this.

She unwraps it over the toilet, cocaine snowing down in clumps and floating on the toilet water. It looks like powdered sugar, really. Marcese is more tempted than she'd like to admit to take a lick. She doesn't though. She dumps it all out and flicks the wrapping into the porcelain bowl just for good measure. She flushes and thinks again that certainly, Debrah is going to kill her for this.

She imagines how as she makes her way back to the bed. Debrah is pretty slight, even for a girl, especially right now. So it probably wouldn't be anything too bodily violent. She wouldn't strangle her or stab her in a frenzy.

Maybe she'd put a plastic bag around her head and tie it shut? Marcese's lungs tighten at the mental picture.

Run her over with her car? She irresistibly thinks of Lysander.

Poison her coffee? She can nearly feel her throat swell closed.

She climbs into bed with the image of a smiling Debrah ushering a lethal cappuccino into her hands and startles when the girl in question shifts beside her.

"What're you so jumpy for?" she asks sleepily.

"This movie," Marcese replies quickly.

Debrah lazily picks up her head and takes a minute to watch the screen. "You're kidding me. You're scared of E.T.?"

"I don't like aliens," Marcese insists, guilt hot and acidic in her throat.

"Could understand if we were watching _Signs_ or something, but E.T.?" Debrah shakes her head in disapproval and yawns as she tilts toward the pillow. "Phone home, Marce, you've got problems."

"I know."


End file.
